Unless you are among the many preparing for UPSC, chances are you won’t recall when Indian hockey last won a genuine medal at an Olympics. Genuine, because we discount the gold in Moscow, 1980, which most hockey powers had boycotted in protest against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.
The answer is, a bronze in Mexico City, 1968. After that the only big trophy in Indian hockey's cupboard is the World Cup won in Kuala Lumpur, 1975. Then on, Indian hockey declined in a manner that seemed terminal, struggling for Olympic, World Cup and Champions Trophy qualifications and then failing.
We first blamed it on Indian Hockey Federation officialdom, then on cricket and finally on the introduction of astro turf that made hockey an all-weather, rain-proof game. Soon enough, we stopped talking about hockey, although it continued officially to be our national sport. Inevitably, Pakistan declined too. The era of subcontinental hockey had ended.
European domestic leagues and national teams thrived, rattling up tennis-like scores against India and later Pakistan. Until the decline became so total that even the holy Federation Internationale de Hockey, as the sport's world body is called, panicked. What will the consequences be if the sport fully died in its home? They now started gifting money to Indian Hockey Federation. It was because of this panicky benevolence that some famous foreign coaches -- including legendary Australian Ric Charlesworth -- came to mentor India.
The game had changed much too radically, making our traditional skill of dribbling, ball control, feint-and-dodge considerably less relevant. Astro turf wasn't the main issue. It was the rule changes to make the game faster, minimising referee's whistles. So, fouls like sticks (not allowing raising the hockey stick above the shoulder while hitting), "turning" and off-side disappeared and carried (ball hitting the player's feet) was made minimally applicable.
All of it, pretty much destroyed the advantage the intricate pattern-weaving subcontinental skills gave us. If you watch football, you know the mystique of off-side, and how easy would it be to score if it rule was abolished. New hockey was now all hit-and-run. The Asian attacking doctrine of 5-3-2-1 (five forwards) was buried. With new rules you could have an attacker lurking right around the rival's danger area, trap a long pass and nudge it in. The game became like ice-hockey minus the skates. It suited the Europeans perfectly and the golden era of hockey was ushered in there. Between 1924, when FIH was set up, to 2017, when an Indian Narinder Batra took over, no non-European had ever headed the body controlling a game Asia dominated. The fate of the game followed where the power was. FIH allowed European countries to have their domestic leagues between March and September. This meant subcontinent’s teams, where it’s too hot to play hockey in the summer, had nothing to do, nowhere to tour, in these months. Because they had to travel for global events domestic leagues died.
The lesson of the first story: if you don’t have power in a game you are masters of, the world will walk all over you.
The second story is about cricket. Like India, Pakistan inherited its cricket structure from the English club system. But unlike India, the government took control, setting up the Cricket Board through an ordinance (later law) in 1952. The establishment considered it a national duty -- and entitlement -- to control the game.
Ayub Khan, reconstituted the board in 1957 and appointed three vice-presidents -- including himself. Shenanigans that began never ended and chairmen of the board had tenures even less predictable than the heads of state. The PCB website doesn't give a real chronology (because there really can't be one, given so many ad hoc interregnums), but some Googling and trawling the fan's memory (also in Pakistan where I called two well-informed cricket crazies) tells you that in 1974 the first ad hoc board was set up by gathering government in Pakistan. Since then, a serving Lt-General (Tauqir Zia, under Musharraf), top bureaucrat (Shahryar Khan), many politicians, and an editor now (Najam Sethi) have been appointed to run the board while the prime minister or president (depending on whose reign it is) remains its chief patron.
Everybody has had a chance running the Pakistani board except a cricketer and a professional. Including indeed -- and I say it purely matter-of-fact, any comparisons with the Indian situation are your own -- a serving Chief Justice of Pakistan. Remember nutty Nasim Hasan Shah dancing the bhangra on the pitch after Pakistan beat India in Sharjah?
The answer is, a bronze in Mexico City, 1968. After that the only big trophy in Indian hockey's cupboard is the World Cup won in Kuala Lumpur, 1975. Then on, Indian hockey declined in a manner that seemed terminal, struggling for Olympic, World Cup and Champions Trophy qualifications and then failing.
We first blamed it on Indian Hockey Federation officialdom, then on cricket and finally on the introduction of astro turf that made hockey an all-weather, rain-proof game. Soon enough, we stopped talking about hockey, although it continued officially to be our national sport. Inevitably, Pakistan declined too. The era of subcontinental hockey had ended.
European domestic leagues and national teams thrived, rattling up tennis-like scores against India and later Pakistan. Until the decline became so total that even the holy Federation Internationale de Hockey, as the sport's world body is called, panicked. What will the consequences be if the sport fully died in its home? They now started gifting money to Indian Hockey Federation. It was because of this panicky benevolence that some famous foreign coaches -- including legendary Australian Ric Charlesworth -- came to mentor India.
The game had changed much too radically, making our traditional skill of dribbling, ball control, feint-and-dodge considerably less relevant. Astro turf wasn't the main issue. It was the rule changes to make the game faster, minimising referee's whistles. So, fouls like sticks (not allowing raising the hockey stick above the shoulder while hitting), "turning" and off-side disappeared and carried (ball hitting the player's feet) was made minimally applicable.
All of it, pretty much destroyed the advantage the intricate pattern-weaving subcontinental skills gave us. If you watch football, you know the mystique of off-side, and how easy would it be to score if it rule was abolished. New hockey was now all hit-and-run. The Asian attacking doctrine of 5-3-2-1 (five forwards) was buried. With new rules you could have an attacker lurking right around the rival's danger area, trap a long pass and nudge it in. The game became like ice-hockey minus the skates. It suited the Europeans perfectly and the golden era of hockey was ushered in there. Between 1924, when FIH was set up, to 2017, when an Indian Narinder Batra took over, no non-European had ever headed the body controlling a game Asia dominated. The fate of the game followed where the power was. FIH allowed European countries to have their domestic leagues between March and September. This meant subcontinent’s teams, where it’s too hot to play hockey in the summer, had nothing to do, nowhere to tour, in these months. Because they had to travel for global events domestic leagues died.
The lesson of the first story: if you don’t have power in a game you are masters of, the world will walk all over you.
The second story is about cricket. Like India, Pakistan inherited its cricket structure from the English club system. But unlike India, the government took control, setting up the Cricket Board through an ordinance (later law) in 1952. The establishment considered it a national duty -- and entitlement -- to control the game.
Ayub Khan, reconstituted the board in 1957 and appointed three vice-presidents -- including himself. Shenanigans that began never ended and chairmen of the board had tenures even less predictable than the heads of state. The PCB website doesn't give a real chronology (because there really can't be one, given so many ad hoc interregnums), but some Googling and trawling the fan's memory (also in Pakistan where I called two well-informed cricket crazies) tells you that in 1974 the first ad hoc board was set up by gathering government in Pakistan. Since then, a serving Lt-General (Tauqir Zia, under Musharraf), top bureaucrat (Shahryar Khan), many politicians, and an editor now (Najam Sethi) have been appointed to run the board while the prime minister or president (depending on whose reign it is) remains its chief patron.
Everybody has had a chance running the Pakistani board except a cricketer and a professional. Including indeed -- and I say it purely matter-of-fact, any comparisons with the Indian situation are your own -- a serving Chief Justice of Pakistan. Remember nutty Nasim Hasan Shah dancing the bhangra on the pitch after Pakistan beat India in Sharjah?
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